


Dancing in the Rain

by clique_sinnxr



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: But mostly fluff, Crying, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Simon Snow, Gay Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Hugs, It's good I swear, Just wait for the end, Kisses, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Pining, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clique_sinnxr/pseuds/clique_sinnxr
Summary: Simon can't stop thinking about Baz when he doesn't show up for the beginning of eighth year. It almost becomes too much to handle. But then he finds him.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 99





	Dancing in the Rain

Simon couldn’t sleep. He felt completely on edge, as if something was going to pop out of the shadows of the darkened room. The window was open and cool air was lightly flowing past the thin curtains, but the effect wasn’t as calming as Simon had hoped. He felt cold, too cold. 

He peered through the darkness, hoping to find familiar cool grey eyes staring back at him, but he had no such luck. Baz hadn’t turned up for the school year at all. At first, Simon thought he must have been back at Pitch Manor, hatching some nefarious plot with all of his Pitch vampire relatives. As the weeks rolled on, he began to grow worried  —  not for his own sake, but for Baz. It wasn’t like him to miss school for no reason, and he was much too clever to take longer than a week to hatch a plot.

Simon shivered again in the cold. BazBazBaz, his mind whispered. Hush, he replied. But he couldn’t keep the dreadful fear out of his mind that Baz was somewhere in a ditch dying without anyone to come and rescue him.

***

The next morning at breakfast, Simon made a beeline for Penny. As soon as she saw his face, her own features grew resigned and exasperated.

“Baz isn’t even here, Simon. What could you possibly have to say about him?” she said tiredly.

“I - you know what - well, maybe I don’t want to talk about Baz!” Simon replied indignantly.

Penny raised an eyebrow. 

What a Baz-like expression, Simon thought to himself.

“Ok, maybe I do want to talk about Baz. What could he be up to? What could be keeping him up so long? What if the Humdrum has him?” Simon asked, his voice getting louder and louder with each question. 

Only then did he notice that Agatha had joined the two of them, and was looking at him with mild disdain. Agatha, who had broken up with Simon before the end of seventh year, and who was now forced to continue hanging out with him and Penny out of habit and nothing more.

She sniffed haughtily then said, “I heard that he was visiting members of the Old Families with his family. My parents said he was building up his resumé for after Watford.”

That’s ridiculous, Simon thought to himself. Baz distinctly mentioned that he wanted to study in Paris after Watford, after one of their fights. It had begun when Simon kept prodding him, asking whether he would become a full-blown bloodsucker, a murderer. Baz had lashed back, saying he wanted to study abroad, and that he would at least be doing more with his life than Simon, the worst Chosen One to ever be chosen.

But he kept these thoughts to himself and smiled tightly back at Agatha while Penny nodded in agreement.

***

In every class, Simon found himself thinking of Baz. 

In Ancient Greek, he thought about the nape of Baz’s neck which he always saw in front of him. The gentle swoop of black hair that Simon always wanted to touch. The sweet citrusy scent of bergamot and the deeper tone of cedar. 

In Elocution, it was Baz’s voice. Deep, smooth, practiced. Always carrying a great deal of power and emotion.

He began writing before he was fully aware of it, writing down all the possible locations that Baz could be. He knew Baz. He was Baz’s roommate, for heaven’s sake! He knew that Baz would never disappear out of the blue.

And when he tried to fall asleep that night to no avail, he found himself paralyzed by the image of Baz lying weak and helpless on a smooth slab of marble, gasping out his last breaths.

Normally, not thinking about things was Simon’s strong suit. But when it came to Baz, he was never good at keeping him out of his mind. And especially now, his thoughts ran faster than he could process them. Baz dead, Baz dying. A cry lodged itself in Simon’s throat as he tried to force himself into sleep, suffocating in his fears.

***

Simon had begun to withdraw to his room. He found that his thoughts continued to be plagued by Baz, and the only place that felt comfortable, that felt familiar, was the room that he and Baz shared.

The door slammed open. Simon wanted to cry with relief and joy as he looked up, searching for the piercing eyes, the turned-down smirk. But it was Penny.

“Simon! This moping has got to stop! What on earth has gotten into you?” Penny said, moving to shake Simon by his shoulders.

“I don’t know Penny! I just keep thinking about Baz. It’s not like him to leave like that. I know Baz. I know he would never do such a thing. What if he’s in danger? What if he’s hurt?”

As his rant progressed, Penny seemed to undergo a realization. She looked back at Simon as his voice died out with a self-satisfied grin.

“What, Penny?” Simon asked. “Do you know something? Don’t hold back. I need to know where he is.”

“It’s not that,” Penny replied. “You’re just so thick, Simon.”

“Me? Why?” 

“No reason. I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” she replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have tons of work to do. Have a good day!” And then she was gone, leaving Simon in a deep state of confusion.

***

Simon slammed his window shut. It didn’t feel right to keep it open without Baz there needling him constantly. Without thinking, he made his way across the room. He found himself in front of the bed that was the furthest from the window. Baz’s bed. Steeling himself, he pulled back the covers and slid in. And though Baz was not there, this was the most whole Simon had felt during the entire school year.

This ritual continued every night. Simon would always find himself in Baz’s bed. Though he longed for the familiar scent of Baz’s posh soap, the cedar and bergamot, he could almost pretend that Baz was there, nestled in the cool silk sheets.

And that was enough for him. Until it wasn’t. Until Baz had been gone for more than a month. Weeks, Simon could handle. But now, it was something serious. 

***

Simon found himself in Baz’s bed yet again, Baz nowhere to be found. Rain was hammering on the windows of Mummers House, the wind whistling like a lost spirit looking for a home in the night. 

Baz loved the rain, Simon recalled. He would always go down to the football pitch in the middle of a storm and run, freely, happily, laughing at the sky and shaking his hair as it grew wetter and wetter.

Simon couldn’t handle it anymore. He pushed himself out of bed and ran for the door, looking for something, anything, that could distract him from his thoughts of Baz. He ran with no aim, just going where his legs could take him. Down the stairs, out Mummers House, past White Chapel. The path grew darker, dustier. He was at the entrance of the Catacombs.

He recalled the time he found Baz there, half drunk on peppermint spirits, lying by his mother’s tombstone. Following the path that his memories made for him, he cautiously stepped past overturned cobblestones and shapes that looked suspiciously like rat skeletons until he reached the grave of Natasha Pitch.

Something in him crumbled as he stared at the grave of Baz’s mother. Perhaps it was a sense of longing, a sense of loss, but he was driven to do something he never would have considered. He spoke to her.

“Um, Mrs. Pitch? Headmistress Pitch? I don’t know if you can hear me, but you’re the only one I can really talk to. I —” His voice broke, but he continued, forcing his words through the growing lump in his throat. “I don’t know where Baz is. Um, I just - I really miss him,” Simon whispered into the almost impermeable silence around him.

There was a sudden crash outside. A crackle of magic, smoky like Simon’s, but much sharper, much more focused. 

“Baz?” Simon was startled out of his stupor. “Baz is that you?” 

He clambered out of the Catacombs, his mind almost manically seizing on the possibility that Baz had returned. The rain assaulted his skin, blistering pelts showering down on him. He was completely drenched, and his shirt was swaying madly in the wind.

“Baz?” His voice had risen to a cry. “Please! Baz!” Tears were freely flowing down his face, mingling with the droplets of rain that had accumulated on his cheeks. “Baz!” But having received no reply, he sank in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees as he sobbed in the rain and howling wind.

“Simon?” A voice finally replied, growing louder and louder as it repeated the question.

Simon lifted his head cautiously, trying to listen more closely.

“Simon!” A figure was approaching him, tall and stark, almost shining in the moonlight. “Simon!”

Suddenly, cool hands were reaching for Simon’s, pulling him up into a secure embrace. Simon was choking now, his sobs stuttering in his throat as he searched for air. The hands had found their way to his back and were rubbing soothingly. 

“Baz,” Simon whispered as he found his breath, wonder filling his voice.

“Hush, love,” Baz replied as he wound his arms tighter around Simon’s shoulders. “It’s alright Simon,” he continued to whisper.

It was Simon who pulled back first, to study Baz’s face. Baz’s handsome face which was now gaunt and unnaturally pale. He reached a hand up to trace his fingers along Baz’s cheek.

“It’s you,” he said with relief. “It’s really you.” And once more, without thinking, Simon surged forward until his lips met Baz’s. 

Baz froze instantly, then returned the kiss gently. Simon’s hand had made its way from Baz’s face to his hair, and Baz was gently cupping Simon’s jaw in his palm.

Baz broke away slowly, pulling back until his eyes met Simon’s. “It’s me, love,” he said, and Simon felt a rush of warmth surge through him. Much stronger than he had ever felt just sleeping in Baz’s bed. This was what he was missing, this was what he needed.

The two continued to stand in the rain, which had now subsided to a light drizzle that gently misted their faces. Every worry had melted out of Simon. He knew where Baz was — his arms were wrapped around Baz’s neck as they swayed together in the rain, dancing to a song only the two of them could hear, and he would have it no other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok I was obsessed with this idea for a really long time, so let me know what you think! It was definitely not inspired by the current state of my love life (aka I am this close to telling him how I feel, but I'll just keep being a Baz about it, it's ok). And kudos + comments would be much appreciated.


End file.
